


i've lost the will to carry on (please shine a light to guide me home).

by Countryheart



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Afterlife, Ahsoka Tano Didn't Leave the Jedi Order, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anakin Skywalker Doesn't Turn to the Dark Side, Attention readers, Bittersweet, Canonical Character Death, F/M, Feral Clones and a Concerned Galaxy, Forgive Me, I wanted this to be about clones and jedi only, I wrote this to make myself sad and it worked to well, In this the following happens, Jedi Genocide, Jedi as Found Family (Star Wars), Like there is not a single one left because all were in the temple when it happened, Literally all Jedi die, M/M, No Anakin/Padme for plot purposes, Order 66 Happened Differently (Star Wars), Order 66 is carried out by other people, Post-Order 66 (Star Wars), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Order 66 (Star Wars), Reunions, Sad with a Happy Ending, Sheev Palpatine Is The Worst, The Jedi still die, The clones don't have chips, The clones go rogue, The clones need a hug like collectively, This Is Sad, i guess, sorry - Freeform, the war is won
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-15
Updated: 2021-01-15
Packaged: 2021-03-13 07:01:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28774266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Countryheart/pseuds/Countryheart
Summary: It should’ve been over. This wasn’t supposed to happen. They had won, god damnit, they had won the war.But now the Jedi were dead, and the galaxy celebrated.(or: if the chips had never existed, but Order 66 still happened.)
Relationships: CC-10/994 | Grey & Kanan Jarrus, CC-1004 | Gree & Barriss Offee, CC-1004 | Gree & Barriss Offee & Luminara Unduli, CC-1004 | Gree & Luminara Unduli, CC-1010 | Fox & Clone Trooper(s), CC-2224 | Cody & Obi-Wan Kenobi, CC-2224 | Cody/Obi-Wan Kenobi, CC-5052 | Bly/Aayla Secura, CC-6454 | Ponds & Mace Windu, CC-6454 | Ponds/Mace Windu, CT-7567 | Rex & Ahsoka Tano, CT-7567 | Rex & Anakin Skywalker, CT-7567 | Rex & Anakin Skywalker & Ahsoka Tano, CT-7567 | Rex/Anakin Skywalker, Clone Troopers & Jedi Character(s), Clone Troopers/Jedi Character(s), Depa Billaba & CC-10/994 | Grey, Depa Billaba & Kanan Jarrus & Mace Windu, Doom & Tiplar (Star Wars), Doom & Tiplee (Star Wars), Plo Koon & CC-3636 | Wolffe, Relationships can be seen as platonic OR romantic - Relationship, Stass Allie & CC-8826 | Neyo, That is up to the reader
Comments: 75
Kudos: 355





	i've lost the will to carry on (please shine a light to guide me home).

**Author's Note:**

> Omg I wrote an 8k oneshot to make myself sad and it worked a little too well, what have i done

_I’ll think of you as I go_

_So when I leave, you’re not alone_

_And no matter where we are, we will never be that far_

_‘Cause I will think of you as I go_

\---

_It’s over_.

The two words are ringing in Cody’s ears as he lowers his blaster. Around him, his brothers do the same, taking off their helmets as they stare at their General standing in front of them, blue lightsaber ignited and piercing what might’ve been Grievous’ heart at one point.

There is no life in those nightmarish yellow eyes, his body parts burned and scorched black by flames. The four blades he’d wielded, blue and green and green and blue, taken from their true holders, have fallen to the ground, extinguished and finally finding the peace they hadn’t been granted in the fight against the very people they’d once protected.

Over the last few weeks, the reports had come in, one only minutes ago.

 _I’ve got Dooku, alive_ , Skywalker’s voice had said, exhausted, but proud and determined. _I’m bringing him in_.

 _Ventress left, long ago._ Plo Koon had said, after a weeks-long mission to find the Sith apprentice-turned-bounty hunter and apprehend her. _She’s no longer a threat._

 _Maul is dead_ , Windu had said, stoic brown eyes focused on the body lying in front of him, a small trail of smoke rising from the hole his purple blade had burned into the Zabrak. _It is best to leave Mandalore now._

Similar victories had happened, on war-torn worlds and in space above those.

_Trench went down._

_So did Tambor._

_Loathsom was caught, he’s waiting for his trial in his prison cell._

_We have Durd in custody._

Separatist admirals and generals were either caught and taken to Coruscant to be imprisoned or killed in battle, whether by blaster shots or a lightsaber blade.

Grievous had been one of the last. Ventress and Maul hadn’t been too important; one had gone and left the war behind, the other had been waiting for Kenobi to come which had made him too arrogant to consider Mace Windu an opponent worth of his time. Dooku had been captured by Skywalker and the 501st aboard his ship only minutes ago. They didn’t have the Sith Lord, but they did have the tactical droids and with them the ability to shut the droids off. The battlefields were silent. The clones were waiting with bated breaths. The Jedi were clutching their swords.

A voice had broken the silence: Obi-Wan Kenobi had lifted his gaze from his fallen enemy, looked at the troopers barely able to believe their own eyes, smiled and said:

_“It’s over.”_

Cheers erupt like an explosion. Helmets, blasters and pistols find their way to the dusty ground as the troopers hug and yell and jump up and down, their faces wet from tears rolling down their cheeks. Armor, whether completely white or full of color, both scorched by fire and dirty, clashes together and amid it all, a brown robe finds its way through to laugh and cry and cheer with them.

Cody grins like he hasn’t done since he was a cadet and Wolffe had managed to push Fox off his bed in the middle of the night, his muscles screaming from overuse, but all he can feel is pure euphoria. He doesn’t need to fight anymore. It’s over.

His eyes meet blue-green ones right across from him, a gentle face that has tears straining down, but looks so _relieved_ it hurts, copper hair sticking to its forehead. Obi-Wan smiles at him, the first smile in peace times. Cody thinks it’s beautiful and reaches for his general, tugging him against his chest and jumping up and down with the Jedi laughing, not smiling or grinning, but honest-to-God laughing.

He doesn’t know it, but all over the galaxy, his brothers are doing the same.

Rex has one arm wrapped around Skywalker and the other around little Tano who is not so little anymore, tears are streaming down their faces, but they’re laughing and dancing through waves of men in white and blue onboard the ever steady _Resolute_.

Bly has fallen to his knees and is holding on to General Secura like his life depends on it _(and maybe it does)_ while his whole battalion has gotten rid of the helmets and has finally _(finally)_ dropped all the weapons on the dusty ground of Felucia.

Ponds has never been the brother to come to for hugs and physical affection, but even he has the widest grin known to man on his face and clasps hands with General Windu in a way that speaks of a deep bond between Jedi and Commander.

Wolffe has long since stopped giving a rat’s ass about what the Senate thinks about him and his brothers and he swears to himself that he’ll never start caring about it again, because why would he, when General Koon has tugged him so close to his chest that he can barely breathe.

Gree stops thinking about protocol and regulations the moment the message comes through and wraps his arms around General Unduli, who, for all her inner peace and contentment, does nothing more than hug him back with one hand while the other holds Barriss close.

Neyo has not seen everything in this galaxy and his battles, compared to the ones the 501st and the 212th fought out, do not stand out as much, but as he leans his forehead against one of his brothers’, screaming and yelling while his General is at his side, he knows he doesn’t need the glory, not anymore.

Doom has lost one of his Jedi and he is never sure whether he has actually moved on from that or if he had just pushed it so far out of his mind to be able to keep going on, but what he does know is that General Tiplee is real and now nothing can ever take her away because it’s over.

Grey is watching his brothers dance around a pile of burning clankers while General Billaba is right there with him, smiling at him, casually leaning against him in the deepest showcase of trust while her padawan, the little Commander, is riding on Styles’ shoulders, shrieking in joy.

Fox has pushed every single inch of paperwork from his desk and abandoned his office to go see the fireworks lighting up Coruscant’s sky and while he cannot claim to have seen as much horror as most of his brothers, the sight of the Jedi Temple lit up in beautiful colors calms him in a way he doesn’t dare explain to his celebrating Guard.

There are many more, too many to name them all, who have dropped their weapons and helmets, who are cheering and laughing and dancing and crying. An endless list would have to be written to truly capture the emotions felt by every single clone and every single Jedi out there, in the wide space of a beautiful galaxy which can now rest from a terrible war. But the most important thing which is worth knowing is that they’re all happy. Because it’s over.

It’s finally over.

-

One cannot begin to grasp how extraordinary fast everything goes from there.

For once, the Senate has its shit together, as Skywalker’s men like to say when they’re spectacularly drunk, and by the time all battalions and Jedi Generals and Commanders have returned to Coruscant, a fragile, but honest peace has been negotiated between the Republic and the Separatists. No one really cares why the Chancellor looks like he’s swallowed several lemons at once, not when all clones have been invited by their lightsaber wielding friends to come to the Temple and celebrate.

And celebrate they do. There are golden lights lighting up the inner halls of the magnificent and ancient building, the younglings asking troopers to play with them _(and who could, who would say no to children?)_ and padawans at last reuniting with friends they haven’t seen in ages due to battles they never should have been in. Knights and Masters alike share their joy through both the Force _(which is singing because for a moment, it can forget about the remaining darkness and indulge its most beloved children)_ and dance, song and open affection.

Perhaps it’s not quite the traditional way, but no one says anything, not after three years of terror, loss and suffering.

Ahsoka is hugging Barriss and laughing at her master’s ridiculous antics as he tries to convince Obi-Wan to join him in a race across the temple. One would think most people would just like to rest after such an ordeal and most do, but there are some spirits that cannot be bound and now they can run and jump and cheer however they want to, with no boundaries and no orders telling them where to go next, where to lose lives next.

All Council members look relaxed like they haven’t in years as there is no longer the burden of explaining to their fellow Jedi that yes, the Senate has once again interfered with Order business and no, we can’t do anything to stop them because it will make us look like the bad guys in front of everyone.

There’s music echoing through every corner and Cody thinks that nothing will ever compare to the first evening spent in complete and utter peace. He looks around while holding a drink of something he’s not quite sure isn’t mixed with motor oil and sees brown robes switching places with white armor every few meters – his brothers are having the time of their lives and the Jedi are relaxed for the first time he’s known them.

Tomorrow they’ll have to deal with all the important things: With the Senate and what will become of the clones, now that the war is over, with the Separatists left over in the galaxy, with worlds that haven’t known peace in a long time and yet desperately long for it _(or don’t want it back because those exist too)_.

But for now, they’ll have fun. They’ll laugh and dance and sing together like they’re all a bunch of children and no one can hurt them in their little bubble of happiness.

Cody grins and basks in the light.

-

When one door closes, another opens.

That’s how the saying goes or at least that’s what Cody thinks to himself as he looks over the many ships assembled in the hangar of the Jedi Temple.

Surprisingly, the Senate hadn’t taken long during their debate as to what they should do with the clones and he can imagine that they’ve been under a lot of pressure _(not that the Jedi would ever admit it)_ – the pressure of letting them be free men instead of identical slaves. In no time ID cards and citizenship of different planets had been handed out to every clone soldier who lived through the war and all of them were free to go, free to live their dreams, free to explore the galaxy they had fought for without ever knowing it.

Free to make their own decisions _(it is still scary to think about)_.

However, what none of them had counted on was that exploring and living also meant saying goodbye to the ones they’d known from the start, the ones they had fought beside for the last three years.

The Jedi seemingly had known this was coming. Which is why all of those who’d served with the men had come down to give them a proper send-off.

Skywalker and Tano were busy hugging themselves through the entire 501st, Secura was right in the middle of her beloved battalion, Windu and Unduli were bowing their heads to their faithful troopers, padawans were clinging to their best friends with the men clinging right back and if Cody was honest, then absolutely no one here was even close to be ready to say goodbye.

Not even himself, he admits, as he stares at Obi-Wan Kenobi, trying to imprint the man’s face into his memories. Just to be sure. He doesn’t want to forget anything. Ever.

“You’re all acting like we’re never going to see each other again,” Obi-Wan chuckles, still handing out hugs to every trooper who approaches. “I guarantee you that this isn’t the last time we speak. It’s not _goodbye_ , it’s just a _see you later_.”

And so, as brothers in arms finally part, as one half enters the ships gifted to them and the other stays behind in a home all of them will always come back to, there’s something bittersweet laying in the air. None of the clones recognize it and none of the Jedi know what to do with it, but it feels a little like _I’m sorry_ and _Farewell,_ yet no one pays it any mind for now.

The fighting is over. Nothing can happen now, at least, nothing that could be worse than the last three years.

The ships rise from the ground and fly away from an ancient temple. In it, an Order of peacekeepers stare after them for a long time until not even the shadow of one can still be seen. There’s sorrow, there’s longing, but there’s also happiness.

Obi-Wan Kenobi and Anakin Skywalker share a look and the Force sighs contentedly.

The Jedi will be here when their best friends return, that’s what every single one of them thinks and while no one says it out loud, everyone is aware that they’re missing them already, just as the troopers gathered on the ships look back to Coruscant long after they’ve jumped to hyperspace.

_It’s not goodbye, it’s a see you later._

Happy words spoken in a time of peace with the best intentions behind them. But in this universe, peace is an illusion and so, even the Force closes its eyes to the events that follow this scene.

It is but one week that passes before all shatters into ash.

~

(1)

**DEATH YET THE FORCE**

_i can’t hide behind what i don’t know **(have i lost it all?)**_

****

There is no warning.

No inkling, no weird feeling, not even a spooky dream.

Cody, Rex, Wolffe and all their brothers go about their day as usual. They’ve been away for nay a week. 168 hours of peace and freedom are enjoyed through daring maneuvers in space that take twenty years off Fox’s life, the kind of music and other activities that none of them were ever able to _(ever allowed to)_ enjoy. They stay on a largely uninhabited planet if you don’t count the harmless wildlife with beaches of golden sand and an ocean bluer than anything they’ve ever seen. There’s a small town where they can buy the most delicious food, there’s plenty of love from the locals for every brother that wishes to find it and all in all, peace is really not so bad.

Cody thinks he could get used to it, even if he will never kick the habit of sleeping with his blaster safely hidden under his pillow.

That evening, they return to either the ships that are still in their possession _(because they have things now)_ or in the huts they built. Not all of them are there, of course, many brothers have gone to other places, places they’ve been to before or always wanted to visit. They’re spread all over, but none of them worries because in the end, they’ll always find each other.

Rex calls it the Clone-Force when he’s drunk enough and misses Anakin and Ahsoka too much for all that it’s barely been seven days. The others then snicker, but not one of them denies it because somehow, it feels right.

A small ring echoes through the night and Cody’s attention is on the message he’s received. He doesn’t know who sent it, but he knows what that terrible feeling is which spreads in his chest when he skims over the words again and again.

_The Republic has fallen. The Temple has too. Come back._

Every trooper drops what they’re doing and dread, cold and icy and harsh as the most freezing of winters takes hold of their heart. It is a testament to their military upbringing when they have everything packed and are on their way to Coruscant in under an hour.

-

Coruscant’s sky is black when they return.

Nothing is left of the party scene they’d seen when they left, only the high buildings of people who would always think they were better than anyone below the illusion of luxury. There’s the Senate of course and even though nothing looks different about it, a shudder runs through Cody’s bones.

None of them can grasp what they feel when they see the Jedi Temple. Instead of standing tall like it did when they’d last seen it, its towers are damaged and scorched, the biggest one in the middle has broken and lies in ruins above the roof. No smoke or flames rise from it, but one need only close their eyes to imagine it burning throughout the night, a lit torch signaling the beginning of a new and darker era.

They land right in front it and none of them wants to think about protocol, wants to stand still and wait for orders, but they force themselves to adhere to what they’ve been taught. There could still be potential threats in there. With their Jedi. This is time for caution.

Three steps into the temple, that thought vanishes into thin air.

There are countless bodies littering the halls. The stench of death flies through the air. Blood has spilled all over the sacred ground. Dropped lightsaber hilts glitter in the flickering lights.

The Jedi are dead.

It takes the clones very long to realize that. It takes them so long because they spread out and search for survivors _(there are none)_ and find more gruesome things every time they round a corner.

_(They’ve seen war and they’ve seen death. But not like this. Never like this.)_

They find them all.

Aayla Secura lies in a pool of her own blood in the Room of a Thousand Fountains and beneath her, the green grass has turned an ugly dark red, like a Sith’s blade. Bly lets out a cry unheard of in man’s tales and doesn’t move from her side, even when others try to rouse him.

Mace Windu and Depa Billaba were shielding little Caleb Dume – everyone who sees their corpses can easily see that. An entire lineage was cut down in seconds, everyone can see that too, everyone but Ponds and Grey who closed their eyes the minute they saw who was lying on the floors of their home.

Stoic Bacara falls to his knees next to Ki-Adi-Mundi and wonders where it all went wrong.

Fox clenches his blaster like he’s imagining it’s the hearts of the ones who did this whenever he spots another padawan.

Gree stares at Luminara Unduli and Barriss Offee like he’s seen a ghost, like he _wants_ to see _their ghosts_ , but no one answers his desperate whispers.

No one dares approach Doom when he finds the body of his last remaining General.

Neyo cradles Stass Allie close and tricks himself into believing, just for a second, that she’s only sleeping and that the scorch marks on her are nothing but a candle flame gone wrong.

When Wolffe breaks down over a bruised and bloodied Plo Koon, the cries echo through a home that was broken and brothers who were lost.

Cody doesn’t think he will ever feel something again. Everything is numb, everything is deathly silent _(because there is nothing else but death in a place where safety had always been assured)_ and everything he can see is Obi-Wan Kenobi’s body, unmoving, unbreathing, riddled by blaster fire and carved up with knives. The man’s ginger hair is soaked with blood, his eyes are closed in an eternal sleep and damn him, how can he rest in peace and leave Cody with the nightmare?

Behind the dead Jedi Master that Cody adored _(dead. Obi-Wan Kenobi is dead)_ Anakin Skywalker lies on the floor, singed robes doing nothing to hide the multiple holes in his back, body curled into what the clone believes to be himself, but when Rex steps closer and falls to his knees, sobbing two names, he realizes that beneath Skywalker, Ahsoka’s body is half-hidden from view. A last desperate attempt of the Master to protect his student.

They dare to enter the crèche and open the doors of the Council Chambers. The ones who haven’t let themselves cry yet finally let go as they fall to their knees beside the bodies of children.

They find the security tapes and force themselves to watch them.

They say nothing when they watch an army of Coruscant civilians, different species of every color, size and age march into the Jedi Temple and start shooting, start slicing into the first few Jedi who don’t even manage to draw their lightsabers.

They watch as the people they’d been protecting from war for three long years shoot padawans in front of their masters and masters in front of their padawans, laughing as the one still standing cries out in despair.

_Cody says nothing as he watches Obi-Wan deflect shots as Anakin and Ahsoka try to escape the room they’ve found themselves cornered him. He doesn’t say anything when the shots prove to be too much and the Jedi Master falls to the floor with holes in his chest. Rex tries, but he can’t help the desperate scream when he watches Anakin pull Ahsoka into him, shielding her one last time as they both are hit and collapse._

They watch as the people they had served break into the crèche and the Council Chambers and shoot the children. Bodies of six-year-olds hit the floor and the tapes break down the moment Boil hits the recorder so hard it nearly splits in two.

They take the lightsabers with them. Perhaps it’s imaginary, but every green, blue, yellow and purple crystal they dare take into their care, is crying for its true holder, as if they all knew what had transpired in only one night. Every silver glinting hilt finds its place to the hip of the Clone Commanders who served their partners, their friends.

They collect the bodies, take them onto their ships and give them a proper burial. Watching flames consume the bodies of their friends is a feeling Cody can’t describe, so he stays silent and so does everyone else. The tears will come later, as will the nightmares, but for now, the Force is silent as the galaxy celebrates the fall of the Jedi. Everything has changed.

Not one of them is fooled, however. The men who walked out of temple are not the same who walked into it.

The Jedi are dead and the clones are gone.

****

~

(2)

**IGNORANCE YET KNOWLEDGE**

_the will to save what was left behind **(i tried to save this fate)**_

The Empire rises and with it, the Sith.

The clones barely react when Palpatine declares himself Emperor and twitch only slightly when he dares proclaim the Jedi as traitors, the ones who slaughtered them as heroes.

 _Order 66_ , he laughs, _was our salvation. Coruscant answered the Jedi’s betrayal in the most righteous of ways._

Everyone is so caught up in the celebrations, no one notices when several large ships go missing. No one thinks about the clones. Only those who enter the Temple much later, to collect the lightsabers of the fallen ~~warriors~~ , are confused when not a single one can be found.

-

You see, the clones were an army. They were trained by the best. They learned warfare and weapons and strategies from the moment they could walk and never questioned (out loud) why they were fighting and who they were fighting for. They learned how to survive.

The Jedi taught them compassion and friendship, individuality and how to express themselves in their own way. They taught them how to live.

The galaxy taught them how to hate and they never forgot how it worked.

-

It starts slow. Slow, but efficient.

Every once in a while, bodies turn up.

On Coruscant, mostly. On other planets too, sometimes. Depending on the target. No one really notices at first – who cares about a few lowlifes and lawless figures?

It’s when it’s revealed that they’re all found stabbed through the heart in a way that could only be possible with blades long extinguished that people start to realize.

 _Rogue Jedi?_ Whispers find their way through the underworld. _Surviving Jedi?_

They soon realize that it’s indeed rogues and that it’s indeed survivors, but it’s not Jedi.

-

The clones were not merely an army, however. They were a family too. The galaxy just hadn’t realized who had been part of that family.

It’s that mistake which will bring them to their knees as they realize just who is hunting out there.

-

Some are not as stupid. Some remember what they did and realize why there are men in white armor and brown robes coming after them. Some remember the Order they killed.

Yet still, they scramble in fear, wide eyes terrified and teary as they stare into death’s empty, unyielding expression.

“Stop,” some beg, blood oozing out of their wounds, making the dirty ground shine red, a single speck of color against the dirt and darkness of Coruscant’s lower levels. A small part of their filth will be cleaned now. “That’s not what they would do,“ they whimper as they crawl away, trying to escape their fate. “Seeking revenge. That’s not the Jedi way!“

They are right. But it’s not _(never)_ a Jedi who’s holding a gun to their heads.

“Please,” they moan, delirious from pain. “Have mercy. The Jedi-“

“There are no Jedi,” CT-7567 says and pulls the trigger.

The body slumps to the ground, empty eyes staring into an even emptier void and normally, he should feel something, something like regret or sorrow or grief, but there’s nothing there, not anymore.

“There are no Jedi,” he repeats in a whisper _(there will never be Jedi again)_.

-

With every body found, there is a name that has been avenged with it.

People start whispering them when they walk down the streets or sit down to eat at home, in fear, in awe, in hope for mercy. If they say the names, maybe they’ll be left alone. Maybe they won’t be hurt.

They don’t know that by doing so, they lift one of the burdens of the men out there. Names that were supposed to be forgotten live on in remembrance in dark alleys, basements of houses, hushed conversations around a fire _(and in the rebellion, but no one knows that just yet)_.

They whisper and even though it’s not quite enough to calm the storm that's coming for the Empire, for every soul who marched into a temple and killed a mighty Order that stood for peace, will never be enough to lessen the hate men clad in white and blue, gold, red, green, yellow and more feel for the galaxy, it’s enough to bring back memories of kind people clad in soft robes, wielding beautiful deadly swords in the names of those who couldn’t stand up themselves.

They whisper and the galaxy is just that much better for it.

_Anakin. Obi-Wan. Aayla. Mace. Ahsoka. Caleb. Barriss. Adi. Tiplee. Stass. Plo. Luminara. Yoda. Depa._

There are thousands more and everyone starts to remember.

-

Somewhere out there, there are people beside the white-clad soldiers, who mourn and weep and grieve.

A restaurant owner looks to the broken temple whenever his shift is open and knows it to be true when he thinks that no one in there was a traitor.

A senator with a wife and no child of his own, surrounded by colleagues of similar mindset, stops in his duties once in a while to look up to the stars and wonder where the soldiers are, convinced they are never as far as they seem, not when there is work to be done.

A pirate throws back his drink and thinks about a little girl who showed him friendship and decides, with a chuckle, hey, why not name his ship after her? It’s nothing major, but it will give him a peaceful night’s rest.

Of course, there are more, numerous more. Not a clear majority, oh no, not even close. But they are there and it means everything.

-

After thousands have been killed and dropped in backwater alleys, finally, there’s a message.

_“You wanted an army, not men. You wanted soldiers, drones, to obey your every command. You never wanted living, free-thinking beings, but mindless killers, driven by nothing but determination and loyalty. Well, now we’ll finally fulfill that wish.”_

The Senate is silent. Sidious is fuming. No one dares to speak a single word.

 _“You took them from us,”_ the clone seen on the holo says, helmet resting under his arms, his eyes unyielding, his expression unflinching. _“Now we’ll return the favor.”_

And they do.

~

(3)

**PASSION YET SERENITY**

_i have nothing in this heart at all **(my life seems meaningless, unspoken)**_

The day Sidious dies, is the day the clones walk away from battle. The body of the Sith, maimed beyond belief, lies on the ground, smoke arising from a vaguely human-shaped form and not a single trooper cares about his wide yellow snake eyes, glaring at them from whatever afterlife there is for dark Lords.

The body is riddled with blaster fire, blaster fire shot into his body when he was already dead.

The ones who eventually uncover the true reason of his death – a hole in his chest that could only belong to a lightsaber – burn his wretched remains and let the ashes be thrown away all over the galaxy.

Once more, the galaxy celebrates, finally free from tyranny.

And far away from it all, in the hands of the bravest men who ever lived, beautiful crystals in carefully preserved _(and painfully loved)_ silver hilts, which used to be most magnificent weapons of a bygone time, sing a song of the Force _(for those men, it’s a lullaby)_.

~

(4)

**CHAOS YET HARMONY**

_words can’t convey **(i’ll move on anyway)**_

Colorful flashes of copper follow CC-2224 as he walks away from the celebration. Torches light the path to the woods, and he hates the sight of glowing ember and rising black smoke so much he strays from it, entering the cool dark shade of the night.

They’ve done it, he thinks. They’ve finally won the war. Only it is years too late and for the first time in very long, very young life, CC-2224 finds himself without a purpose.

_“There is always a purpose for men like you.”_

He doesn’t flinch, trained to never flinch again, but something he’d thought dead blossoms in his chest when he hears the painfully familiar accent caresses his ears. When he turns, he realizes he’d long since forgotten the way his General had won his robes and tunics, how the mere presence of the man had always felt so soothing to him and the exact shade of blue of his lightsaber – but he’d always been able to recall these blue-green eyes at any point in his life.

“Men like me?” he muses, one corner of his lips curling almost unnaturally. He’d forgotten was it was like to smile too. “Broken in body and spirit you mean?”

 _“No,”_ Obi-Wan smiles serenely. _“The best and strongest men I’ve ever known.”_

“Still such a sweet-talker. Even now.” Of course. And he’s glad. It wouldn’t be his General otherwise.

Obi-Wan’s smile widens. CC-2224 is not Force-sensitive, but he can hear something _sing_ around him; something he may never really understand, but it doesn’t matter for as long as it makes his Jedi look so radiant. Briefly, he wonders if that’s truly the Force or simply _peace_.

“What am I supposed to do now?” he asks, and it throws him back to the bridge of the Negotiator for a second, just long enough to feel longing. It’s been so long since he’s seen that _(their)_ ship.

Obi-Wan steps closer and brings with him the smell of freshly brewed tea: _“What you should have been able to do years ago.”_ He smiles oh so gently. _“Live.”_

Cody smiles back and the soft hand on his cheek feels real.

-

CT-7567 stops, warily.

He turns around and sees – a shimmering blue figure, see-through and glowing. But there is no world where he doesn’t recognize the sparkling eyes, the eyebrow raised in challenge, the hair too long to be a soldier’s cut. The last isn’t important however, since his General was never meant to be one.

 _“Missed me?”_ Anakin asks, smiling, as self-confident and snarky in death as he had been in life. There’s something to him now that he’d never been able to obtain in the entirety of his short life and CT-7567 wonders if that’s what inner peace looks like.

“Every day,” is the only answer he can give as a heart he thought long dead threatens to burst out of his chest with every beat.

 _“Well, you didn’t have to,”_ Anakin grins, delighted, carefree. It still has that edge to it, that bright and cunning and proud edge that was oh so beautiful in life and has not lost its touch in death. _“I never left. Didn’t you hear me?”_

 _“Or me?”_ Ahsoka winks as she appears beside her master, forever young _(too young)_ and forever the cheeky, brave girl he’d first met on Christophsis all those years ago. _“Honestly, if you didn’t, I might be offended!”_

He’d never heard them. Never physically, that is. He’d never looked up during a battle because he’d heard the familiar sound he’s been longing for, never heard the slight melody muttered under his General’s breath when he had thought no one was listening and he’d never stopped dead in his tracks because he’d thought he’d seen a flash of fangs and big blue eyes.

But there’d been moments. No voice, never a voice, but something. Something precious. Something warm. Something loving. And that had been enough on the darkest days.

“I did,” Rex says and the cheerful laugh he elicits is more beautiful than any symphony ever composed.

-

If one asks him, CC-5052 doesn’t remember when he started loving a beautiful and kind blue-skinned Twi’lek.

It hadn’t just started one day as if he’d developed a passing fancy for a wonderful woman, no. Instead, it had waited in the back of his heart, soothing and ever warm even in the coldest nights. He’d learned to search for it in the times he’d been in her company, he’d learned how it felt to be truly and deeply in love whenever she had leaned on him, confided in him, trusted him to keep her safe and whenever he’d trusted her to the same for him.

When she was gone, cold and ashen on the blood-soaked ground, his heart had fallen beneath her and had not come back to him. It was buried with her even now, he is sure, because she would always have it, no matter where she was now.

So, really, it’s not a surprise to him that, when she stands in front of him with her warm brown eyes and her loving smile, there’s a spark in his chest that never faded.

Aayla locks her gaze onto his and doesn’t need to say anything, not really, because he understands anyways. But her _“Oh my dear Bly, I missed you so”_ sounds sweeter than any flower could smell, any food could taste, any girl could look, he will admit to that in a heartbeat.

Bly wraps his arms around a ghost and feels her presence, at last.

-

Even with all his patience, with regulations and rules, CC-6454 could not truthfully say he’d liked and respected any of the politicians and planet leaders he’d met during his time in the GAR or the Rebellion.

The ability to hide any disdain and annoyance behind an expression of pure professionalism had thus been very useful.

Simple facial expressions had never fooled a Jedi though and especially not the one he’d served with. Windu had always known and when they had been out of sight of whatever peace meetings they’d sat through, his General had always smiled and chuckled at his frustration.

And really, hasn’t he long since learned to never underestimate the Jedi?

The answer to that question stands before him, dressed in familiar brown robes and a knowing smile that reaches dark eyes until they shine in the darkness.

 _“Commander,”_ Mace chides good-naturedly, _“you know better than I do to always expect the unexpected.”_

The title is old and hasn’t been his in a long time, but Ponds finds he doesn’t mind being a Commander again for as long as he gets his General back too.

-

Childhood is a word CC-3636 is not familiar with at all. There’d been no such thing on Kamino, no hugs given to him by a kind mother, no claps on the back and words of encouragement from a caring father, no cookies snatched from the kitchen in the middle of the night and no fairytales read to him at his bedside.

There’d been training and regulations and order and discipline. There’d been trials and tribulations, hundreds upon thousands upon millions of being who looked exactly like him and absolutely no time for fun.

Truthfully, he hadn’t gotten any of these longed-for things later either, when there’d been war and death waiting on the doorstep every night.

Yet, right now, there’s arms around him and clawed fingers stroking through his short hair. He’s not a child anymore, hadn’t been one when he’d met Plo all those years ago, but it’s not like his General had ever cared about something like that.

 _“You can stop hiding now, son,”_ a soothing voice says as warm breath hits his ear, _“there’s no need for you to keep doing it. I’m here now.”_ His hair is starting to gray at the edges, but there’s still someone out there who calls him son and that alone is all that matters.

Wolffe has never really been a child, but he thinks he knows what it’s like to have a father.

-

Granted, the battalion of CC-1004 was never the one known for hugs, enthusiastic shouts or the drama other certain troops seemed to get involved in, but they’d had something a little different that was just as precious.

That’s what he likes to remember the most, he thinks, as he leans against the window and stares out into the night sky. The special something he’d shared with his two Jedi who hadn’t been brash and spontaneous, but collected and calm and yet warm and welcoming.

Greenish skin and beautiful tattoos come to his mind as he pictures them once more, the same as he has done for years.

As he feels an arm wrap around his shoulders and a smaller presence leaning into him, he doesn’t need an imagination anymore though.

Luminara smiles at him, content and proud _(she shows it often if you know where to look)_ while Barriss shows her age by pressing herself against him, both of them glowing a light blue. He knows they’re no longer alive, but with them by his side and with no words needed, it doesn’t feel like that’s important.

He got his General and he got his Commander. There’s nothing more he needs.

Gree is content.

-

He could have had a family, CC-10/994 thinks, because nothing rings truer in his mind. He could have had a family and had he gotten it, he never would have looked back.

Perhaps that is what hurts the most as he stares into the dancing, flickering flames of the bonfire. The knowledge that he could have had one, was so close to having one, but then they got torn away in a single night and even after all these years, he hasn’t been able to let go _(and never will be, he’d known that from the start)_. It’s a festering wound, painful even after years of trying to ignore it, to move on from it, bleeding and stinging no matter the treatment.

Then, _“Grey!”_ a painfully familiar voice cries and before he can think to react, a boy has thrown himself into his arms.

“…Caleb?”

He automatically clutches the small body to himself, breathes in the innocence of a child and feels his heart burst as he listens to the giggling of the little boy he’d fought to keep safe in a war he never should have been in.

He lifts his eyes and they meet dark brown ones, shimmering with love and delight and all he can say is a weak “Depa” before the most beautiful woman he’s ever known crosses over to him and hugs both him and the student she’d never gotten the chance to see grow up.

 _“I love you,”_ she whispers, again and again. _“I love you.”_

Maybe his family never left him in the first place, Grey thinks, because nothing feels more real than the woman in his arms and the boy in their midst.

-

For a very long time, CC-1010 blames himself.

He had never been quite like his brothers in that sense that ventured out into the galaxy to take it by storm, was never involved in the major battles happening all across entire star system, never saw massive battlefields with corpses and destroyed droids littering the ground.

That hadn’t been his purpose and even though he had often thought it unfair, that he was able to remain in the safety of Coruscant’s walls, he had resigned himself to do his duty as best as he could. Better, even.

And he had walked past the man who had slaughtered the best thing in his brothers’ lives every day. Had worked with him often enough that he should have realized something was wrong, because Palpatine had always found a way to push his work over to him while doing questionable things that weren’t always helpful for the Republic or the Jedi _(especially the Jedi, but then again, he was a kriffing Sith, wasn’t he? At least now, it made sense)_.

He wishes often enough that he’d put a blaster to that despicable man’s head, but he hadn’t and hates himself for it.

But then, one day, it’s finally over _(this time for real)_ and an Order long gone draws him in like he’s always been part of their family. It’s a feeling he can’t quite explain when they absolve him of any guilt. A few of them even glare at him for daring to think himself guilty.

He never had a Jedi like most of his brothers did, but Fox realizes he doesn’t need to as he loves them all the same and they love him back, because that’s what you do in a family.

-

The Jedi are dead, but they’re not gone _(never)_. The clones were gone, but they’re returning _(always)_.

~

(5)

**EMOTION YET PEACE**

_it brings me back **(to what i’d hoped for this to be)**_

“We couldn’t save you,” they say, heads bowed. The grief, so old, yet still so fresh, weighs down on their shoulders. There’s a hole in their chests, more painful than any blaster or lightsaber wound could ever be. It hurts to take air in. They haven’t _breathed_ in years.

 _“But you have,”_ comes the answer. There’s an amused chuckle accompanied by flashes of green. The smell of sweet honey tea and ginger hair. A proud grin, a hand made of metal and the scent of motor oil. A feeling of blue, like the sky, and compassion and peace. A presence using the Dark to empower the Light. A quick appearance of ink on green skin and the comfort of absolute contentment. Feelings that speak of the wildest of storms and the most beautiful of sunsets. Flashes of big blue eyes and the innocence of youth. Children’s laughter and the Force singing for the first time in years.

“How?” they almost dare not ask.

 _“You remembered us,”_ they hear voices exclaim in pure, elated joy, voices they haven’t heard in years, have missed for years, spreading through the stillness like a raging and warming fire.

“We always will,” is all they can say, all they can swear. Forgetting is not an option. It never was.

The sky sparkles with millions of stars and it’s so beautiful, yet none of them truly see it as the stars instead morph into carefully shaped crystals, like the ones they still carry with them and will do so until the end. Blue and green and purple and yellow.

Blue like the skies they had once fought under.

Green like the lands and fields they had freed and walked through during their all too short adventure.

Purple like the flowers that had miraculously survived the never-ending fights they had lived through and had greeted their saviors.

Yellow like the suns spending their warmth and energy to the white-armored warriors and the sword-wielding peacekeepers who had protected their light.

 _“We know,”_ it echoes and finally, they _breathe._

They breathe and look to the stars which no longer seem so cold nor so far away. Perhaps it’s time to reach for them once more.

~

(6)

_will you take me from this place i call **(my home’s forever broken)**_

One day, the last of them has died.

They leave behind families, sons and daughters that looked up to them and asked _dad, can you tell me about the war?_ And they had smiled and told them about the Jedi, the clones, the brotherhood. They had told them a story about love and honor and loss and grief. And then the other questions had always followed.

_Do you miss your Jedi friends, dad?_

_Everyday._

_Can I meet them?_

_One day, I’m sure._

_But how? I thought you said they were gone?_

That had always been the part where they had smiled. Not the happy kind, but the one where they had remembered something, something that must have been good, because it first curled on one side of their mouths and then the other.

_Nu kyr'adyc, shi taab'echaaj'la. Not gone, merely marching far away._

And it holds true, the old Mando’a phrase.

For whenever one of them closes his eyes at last and opens them again to something he can never explain and see all those faces welcoming him with open arms, it feels so much different than the end of a war. It’s not relief, because every single one of them had known. It’s something none of them have ever really felt after losing their other half.

In these seconds where they see all those they have lost, they remember.

They remember flashing blades in vibrant colors.

They remember the smell of fire and the sound of explosions.

They remember dusty surfaces and wet tears.

They remember soft hands and warm comfort.

They remember friendship and loss and love and betrayal and war and peace and family.

When the last of them is welcomed into what they call the Force, it feels like something more than just reunion.

It feels like coming home, at last.

And together, they keep on marching.

_(And maybe this is the peace they have been looking for this whole time.)_

\---

_Oh, it’s a long and winding road_

_But you don’t have to walk alone_

_‘Cause no matter where we are, I will keep you in my heart_

_And I will think of you as I go_


End file.
